Love Is Cruel
by CatJetRat
Summary: AU, set in New York. Cheerleader Pansy Parkinson and bookworm Hermione Granger have always hated each other. But what happens when they discover something very interesting about each other? Femmeslash, HGPP, and slash, HPDM.
1. Gay, Straight, and A Little Fruity

**A/N:** I suppose I knew that the time would always come when I had to do a femmeslash fic, being bisexual and all. I just never knew I would be writing it at the same time I'm writing a slash fic. Well, this one is going to be…ah, well, I'm sure I'll have it figured out by the end of this A/N. I'm strongly leaning towards a Hermione/Pansy fic. yes, I think that'll be it. Except…this one will have no book basing. Meaning, um, yeah…I'm not sure how I'm going to do this. Oh. YES! Yes I do. It will be an AU fic. You know, the cliché where magic doesn't exist, and Hogwarts is a Muggle high school. Only…mine will be different because it won't _focus_ around Harry and Draco. I mean, sure, I'll mention them, and how they're together, and if someone wants me to, I'll write a smut scene between them, and if a person asks I'll write a prequel about how _they_ get together, but instead, it'll focus on Pansy and Hermione, and their rivalry. It'll also include scenes between other gay couples. Oooh! I've got a good idea! I'll make them all AMERICAN! YAY! Okay, I'm a bit psycho. Um…it's set in New York, which I've only visited like, twice, but it was WAY COOL! Only, it was really cold and dry. Being from Texas, I'm not so used to that. BTW, my state ROCKS! I mean, seriously, our capitol is pink, and a gay homeless guy walks around town in drag, and is named Leslie. How cool is that? Okay, a bit off topic. Sorry; I'm hyper b/c it's late and I just ate some mint cookies. Okay, this is what we call and 'interactive fic', meaning, as I'm sure you all know, you, the reviewers, get input on what happens. Not in the first chapter, of course, but later on. I've got a basic plot structure, but I'll be happy to take suggestions for pairings and wishes. All right! Enjoy the fic! Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit 'cept an ill-tempered cat and way too many books.

**Summary: **AU, set in New York, present day. Bookworm Hermione Granger and cheerleader Pansy Parkinson have always hated each other. But what happens when Pansy reveals something very interesting about herself to the school?

**Pairings:** Hermione/Pansy, Harry/Draco, Ron/???(you tell me!), Ginny/???(ditto), Seamus/Justin, and any other pairings you want just request them and I'll integrate them in somehow.

**Chapter 1**

**Gay, Straight, and a Little Fruity**

**Pansy's POV**

There she was, looking shy and pretty, as usual. My eyes narrowed for a moment, and I lashed out. "Hey, Granger, what's with that hairstyle? Curls went out in the 80s, didn't you hear?"

Hurt flashed briefly in her eyes before they too narrowed, and she snarled back, "Hah! At least I try to have style."

I smirked. "Nice try, Granger, but no dice. _I_ dress like a fashion model, whereas you dress like the librarian." My cronies around me laughed stupidly. Good god, I hated them all. They didn't have enough brains to fill a teacup.

Her eyes narrowed and she stalked away, defeated. I watched her ass as she left, cursing myself. We may have been enemies, but I damned myself every time I insulted her. My heart ached as I realized that I had probably made her day worse. Draco walked up to me.

"Hello, Pansy, darling," he said dramatically, slinging his arm around my shoulder. I merely grunted in reply.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking concerned. He glanced in the direction I was staring, and noticed Hermione conversing darkly with her friends, Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Harry Potter. Draco's eyes lingered on Potter for a moment, who looked back and smiled, coming up to us. Potter was the star center on the basketball team. He had gorgeous black hair streaked with red and blue, an earring in his left ear, emerald green eyes, and a fantastic, tanned body. His only flaw was a lightening-bolt scar on his forehead, due to the fact that when he was a baby, the mass murderer Tom Riddle, who called himself Lord Voldemort, had come into Harry's house and killed both of his parents, leaving Harry alive if only because the cops caught him right before he killed Harry. Harry was left with the scar because Voldemort, being very sick, only went after people with babies. After killing the parents, he carved his symbol, a lightening bolt, onto the forehead of the parents, then onto the living baby or babies' foreheads, and then killed them. There wasn't a soul who survived to bear the mark, except for Harry. Because of this, the papers called him the Boy-Who-Lived, making him semi-famous in New York City, where the killings happened. Voldemort was currently serving life in prison in the state prison.

But Harry was more than a hottie and the Boy-Who-Lived. He also happened to be Draco's boyfriend. He came up and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, engulfing him in a fantastic Battle of the tongues. I looked towards Hermione again, and felt that longing in my heart. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to go up to her like that. To kiss her, hold her, and hug her. Protect her against everything. Except myself, it seemed.

Harry and Draco broke apart, their lips flushed. I loved my school. It was so open to everything, to all types of people. Draco, by the way, didn't look so bad himself. With white-blond hair, pale skin, and stunning silver eyes, sporting a nipple ring and a ring shaped like a snake he and Harry were easily the hottest two guys in school. Easily. I only knew about the nipple ring because of the brief time he and I had dated, before he realized that he was gay and so did I. Only he was open about it. I was still in the closet, except mine wasn't glass, the way some people's were. My eyes flickered towards the flaming Seamus Finnigan, who had a huge crush on Justin Finch-Fletchley, a more open gay guy.

Draco turned back towards me, a slight smile curving his lips. "Let me guess," he said in a low voice so only Harry and I could hear him. "You said one of your typically bitchy things to Granger, and now you're berating yourself for it?"

My eyes narrowed. "Fuck off," I muttered. Draco had been the first person I had told about my infatuation with Granger. When he had gotten together with Potter, Draco had persuaded me to let Potter know to, considering that he was one of Hermione's close friends.

Draco smirked. "Aww, sweetie," he said, smirking. "You just wait. One day you and Granger will have a hot, steaming relationship, and you can go get your twats pierced together."

Harry gagged, and I laughed. Despite his relentless teasing, Draco always made me feel better. Argus Filch, a hall monitor and janitor swept by and snarled, "Shouldn't you three be getting to class?"

"Yes, Mr. Filch," we all said automatically. I rolled my eyes at Harry and Draco, and we split up, Harry and Draco going to Chemistry with Mr. Snape, and I had Home Ec with Mrs. Sprout and Hermione. I prepared myself for another torturous class in which I tried to avoid being mean to Hermione, but inevitably was.

**Hermione's POV**

I sighed as I headed towards Home Economics. I wanted to skip the class, in fact, I probably could and get away with it. I had always been a good cook, and besides, I was Valedictorian of my Junior class, soon to be Valedictorian of my Senior class. School was ending in approximately four weeks, which thrilled me. To not have to deal with Pansy Parkinson for three months was a prospect that lured and tempted me until I was practically panting. Besides, school was useless to me. I already knew everything my teachers were going to teach me for eleventh and twelfth grade and beyond. I needed none of it. In fact, the only reason I hadn't already graduated was because I wanted to stay with my friends and graduate with them.

I spotted Pansy Parkinson ahead of me, looking pissy. I smiled slightly, thinking of what Seamus would say: "Honey, she just needs to get _laid_." I laughed softly, and cautiously observed her face, being careful to make sure she wouldn't catch me looking. The problem with being enemies with someone like Pansy Parkinson was that she was absolutely gorgeous, and alluring. When we were younger, she had had a rather pug-like appearance to her face, but then she had grown up, physically matured, and had become very beautiful, with long, bouncy blonde hair, smooth, full pink lips, tanned skin, she was slender, and had very large, full breasts which someone could just stroke and cup their hand around, and run their other hand down her flat stomach and down her skirt and—

No. No I would not let myself have these thoughts. These were bad, unproductive thoughts which led to more bad, unproductive thoughts. I would think about another girl, who wasn't a complete bitch, who didn't hate me, and who was actually _gay_. Not, of course, that I could tell if another girl was gay to save my life, unless she actually told me, but still. Pansy was…what I wanted, and what I couldn't have. But I didn't fool myself. All I wanted was her body. She didn't have anything but filth in her head, and she was a bitch anyway. I sighed, and entered my home ec class, took my seat, and pulled out my notes.

Mrs. Sprout entered the room cheerfully. "Today we will be studying the art of caring for plants."

I rolled my eyes. My father loved gardening, so I knew everything there was to know on the subject. It often seemed like Sprout's favorite subject was plants, though I couldn't imagine why. I tuned out as she started rattling on about weeds, and sought out Pansy. She was staring at me, probably trying to find something else to insult me about. Our eyes met, and for some reason she blushed, looking embarrassed. I frowned. I could not imagine why she would look like that. I held her gaze, staring into pale blue eyes that loathed me, yet for some reason I couldn't find any hatred in there. Just slight embarrassment, confusion, and another emotion I couldn't identify. Her gaze flickered down briefly to my chest, and I was struck by a strange thought. _She's a lesbian_.

I banished this thought quickly, because it was absurd, but I stared at her long after she had looked away, through the strands of my curly brown hair. There was something there, and I didn't know what. But I vowed to find out.

**Harry's POV**

I stared in boredom as Mr. Snape began outlining chemical equations and reactions, or something. I didn't understand Chemistry at all, and only passed the class because Draco loved Chemistry and was very good at it.

Draco….

I grinned and fell into my favorite activity: Watching Draco. He was so gorgeous, and beautiful, and all the words that were synonymous with beautiful. I loved the way his blond hair fell across his eyes as he worked, and his slender fingers as they wrote diligently. I loved his nipple ring, and his warm cock as it brushed against mine when we—

"Mr. Potter!" Snape's cold voice snapped me away from my favorite activity.

"Yes?" I said, feeling irritated.

"What would happen if you burned copper?"

"Um…." My brain went into lockdown. I had retained absolutely nothing from a year of the subject. Except…. "Won't the copper turned green?"

"Yes," Snape said grudgingly. "But why?"

My momentary glee at getting it right faded. This I did not know. I only knew that copper turned green because I thought it looked cool and had burned copious amounts of it in order to see that pretty green color. "I, um, am not really sure."

Snape rolled his eyes and began explaining in detail just why copper turned green. This information went in one ear, out the other. I had no use for it. I wanted to be a basketball player when I grew up. Goodness only knew what Draco wanted to be. He was intelligent enough to be anything. I started watching him again. Smirking, I innocently slipped a hand underneath the table and unzipped his pants. His head shot up from the notes he was taking as my hand slid into his boxers. He shot me an angry look which I returned with a lazy grin and he shook his head. Annoyed, I pulled my hand out of his pants and zipped them up. Lavender, sitting next to us, was grinning suggestively. I grinned back. I was in a good mood for the rest of the class, because for the rest of the class, I noticed that Draco's jeans looked much tighter than normal.

After class was over, and the day, Draco grabbed my arm and yanked me out of class. "Let's go," he said tersely. I grinned.

"Hang on," I said. "I have to go to my locker." I knew what his problem was, and I wanted to torture him. For some strange reason, I mysteriously forgot my locker combination, and was forced to move it around for several minutes while Draco twitched impatiently. I finally got it open, grabbed my backpack and homework, and said, "All right, I'm ready now." He then grabbed me and pulled me out of the school into the glorious sunshine.

**Draco's POV**

My _god_, my boyfriend was a sadistic little shit. First he tries to jerk me off in class, leaving me horny for thirty minutes, and then he has the nerve to make me wait around for another ten while he fiddles with his locker. And then finally, _finally_ he's ready, and I pulled him out into the parking lot of our school. Unable to contain myself, I picked him up in my arms and began kissing him fiercely. Then I shoved him into my car and took him home, where we had the whole place to ourselves. Finally.

**Hermione's POV**

I put away the last of my homework, exhaled, and glanced at the clock. It was only six thirty, an hour until dinner. While my homework would have taken most people three or four hours to finish, it took me less than two, due to my above-average intelligence. My parents didn't know this, of course, and I didn't see any reason to enlighten them. It gave me some time to myself.

My parents were, unfortunately, conservative Republicans, and Christians. They were firmly against cloning, abortion, homosexuality, not to mention gay marriage, and were behind Mr. Bush 100 percent.

I wasn't. Besides being gay, I was also very liberal. This was only because my parents worked all the time, and I was raised by a nanny, who was an Atheist Democrat, and I grew up listening to her rant about Christians and Republicans and homophobes. My parents didn't find out about her until I was almost sixteen, but by then, the damage had been done. Oh, they kicked her out and raved about how wrong she was, but by then I too was an atheist, at the most an agnostic. My belief is that yes, there may be a god, or something, but I'm not arrogant enough to assume that I know what it is, or wants, or believes. I'm also not arrogant enough to say that there isn't one. Just that I haven't seen sufficient proof that there is. I was also a liberal Democrat. However, I wasn't foolish enough to tell my parents this. Instead I reassured them that of course I supported their ignorant, hateful beliefs and that fraud in the White House. I didn't put it like that, of course, but I managed to reassure them so that they left me alone. I even went to church with them every Sunday. I just ignored the Minister and worked on my homework in a bible.

I sighed and pulled out a razor. I carefully pulled down my sleeve and made a tiny incision on the inside of my left arm. A tiny, thin pool of blood followed, and I exhaled heavily. It was so nice to relax this way. I used to use writing, but that took too long. Besides, this was quick and easy. My skin healed quickly, though it left tiny, almost invisible scars that weren't a big deal. I slipped my razor back into its hiding place beneath my lamp, blotted at the blood, which had already begun to clot, and pulled my sleeve back down. It was still slightly cold out, so no one would question the long sleeves.

I pulled out my copy of Playboy, unbuttoned my pants, and slipped my hand in. This was another way of relaxing. I finished rather quickly, for I had a lot of practice, and zipped my pants back up, put the Playboy away, and read until dinner was ready. Really, my life wasn't that bad.

**A/N:** Uh-huh. Yes, I know, I didn't mention the cutting thing. But don't worry. All will become apparent later. Well, REVIEW!!!!! Five reviews gets another chapter! If y'all want a teaser, just ask. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	2. Kicked Out

**A/N:** YAY! New chapter, kk? Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Chapter 2**

**Kicked Out**

**Hermione's POV**

I rushed home after school the next day, tired and relieved that all was over. Madam Parkinson had made her usual cruel remark about my clothing, and I was getting pretty sick of it. A summer to recuperate was all I needed, and then I could endure another year of taunting, no problem. After that it was off to Harvard, Yale, or Stanford, unless I could get a scholarship. Then, hopefully I could get into one of the liberal arts and sciences colleges I wanted to go to and become a physicist against the wishes of my parents, who wanted me to go to an Ivy League school only so I could meet a smart guy, get married, and become a good, Republican mother. Hah. Fat chance of that ever happening. If I got the scholarship I wanted, I'd stay with them until the end of summer, and then, off to college for me!

I unlocked the door to my house and strode in, opened my mouth to shout to my mother that I was here, and stopped dead. My parents were both sitting at the kitchen table, their faces clenched, knuckles white, an object between them. It was a magazine. _My_ magazine. It was my Playboy. I froze with my hand still on the knob of the door, and was tempted to simply run out. But they had seen me.

"Shut the door, Hermione." My father's voice was flat and distant.

I complied, it seemed that my body was no longer mine.

"Come over here."

I floated over, dropping my backpack along the way. All I could hear was his voice, all I could feel was my thumping heart, all I could see was the table they were sitting at, with my magazine, and all I could taste was the blood from my bitten tongue, my nose smelling the lemon of our kitchen. I sat down at a chair between them.

"What is this?" My father's voice was calm, but I could see his hands shaking with anger.

I couldn't speak, I wouldn't. My limbs felt heavy and slow, my tongue thick. I was nothing, just a blob. Perhaps if I didn't speak they wouldn't notice me. I closed my eyes, and then opened them again quickly. I shrugged, life returned to a small part of my body.

"Dunno."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, _YOU DON'T KNOW_?!" My father had risen up, the magazine clutched in his hand. "Do you know your poor mother had to find this—this _filth _underneath your mattress when she was changing your sheets this morning? Do you have any idea what that did to her? You better fucking know!" He threw the magazine at my head. I ducked, but then stood up. I was seventeen, and I didn't have to take this crap anymore. I felt unreal, out of my body.

"I'm a lesbian," I said flatly.

"You're a _what_?!" My father looked horrified.

"I'm a lesbian," I said defiantly, his horror somehow making this easier. "I like women. I'm attracted to them. I _like to have sex with women_. Any part of that you didn't understand?"

He slapped me, brutally. I heard a crunching sound, but didn't seem to feel the slap. It was almost as if my mother wasn't there. She watched the whole thing with a hard, cruel look on her face. She stood up.

"Hermione, you're sick is all. We're doing this because we loved you. Now, I know a brilliant church leader who can help you with your sickness. You just wait. You'll be cured in no time." Her face, usually so kind and benevolent, had grown lifeless, like a mannequin. And then, a miraculous thing happened. I laughed.

"I don't want to be _cured_, you fool. I like who I am. You want to help me? Join PFLAG, and find me a girlfriend." I smirked at them. My father looked like he wanted to slap me again, but my mother hadn't batted an eye.

"If you wish to continue this devious lifestyle of yours, then you must leave. You can come back when you have a boyfriend, and have recovered from this abhorrent preference," she said impassively.

"It's not a preference, " I said hurriedly; I hadn't expected her to kick me out. "It's an orientation. I'm gay, mom, and nothing you say or do its going to change that."

"Then you're disowned." My mother's voice went from aloof to furious. "Get out of this house and never come back, you goddamn freak! You and others like you should all be thrown away in camps where you can't affect the world.. Homosexuality should be condemned as in the Bible. So is the word of God."

"You sound like Hitler." My voice had grown soft. Though I did not love her, I had always been under the impression that she loved me. "You would really have me killed?"

"I would do it in a heartbeat to save your immortal soul."

I was surprised, but I would not let it show, and I would not let them destroy me. "All right. Just let me get some of my—"

"No. I will not have you corrupting my household any longer. Get the hell out, and never, _never_ come back, unless you see the light." My father had listened to my mother with the air of someone being vindicated, and he put his own two cents into it by punching me and shoving me backwards. I fell next to my backpack and scooped it up, relieved I hadn't broken my laptop. I stood up and staggered out the door, shell-shocked. I wandered into the street, and walked down the sidewalk, leaving my old life behind.

**Pansy's POV**

I drove out of the school parking lot, my temper worse than usual. I had said some more cruel things to Hermione today, and it had just made me more full of self-loathing and anger. Why, why, _why_ could I not seem to say anything nice to her? What the hell was wrong with me? It was like I had Turret's. I drove around the school a couple of times, and then went driving to help clear my head. On an impulse, I decided to drive by Hermione's house.

I parked the car across the street and watched the house for a few moments, imagining her up in her room, perhaps doing homework, or something. But then something unexpected happened. A few minutes after I had parked, Hermione came stumbling out of her house, a confused, scared look on her face, as well as a couple of newly forming bruises. Before I could stop myself I opened the door to my car and strode out, my heart hammering as I struggled to speak.

"Granger!" I called out, and she looked around at me, blinking.

"What?"

"Are you—" I paused and cursed my inability to ever string two kind words together when around her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, then shook her head quickly. I had continued to walk towards her, and stopped a few paces away from her. "What happened?" I asked, my voice softer than usual, for the two bruises on her face, faint a moment before, were turning purple.

"I…um…." She lowered her head, her hair falling in front of her soft brown eyes. I knew I had only moments before she remembered who she was talking to, so I rushed.

"Did your parents do that to you?"

She looked up sharply, and my heart sank as I saw common sense had caught up with her. "It's none of your business, Parkinson," she snapped, and she pushed her way past me. I stood there for a few moments, torn between fear and love. I chose love.

"Wait, Granger!" I ran towards her and caught up with her. "Seriously, I won't tell anyone. What happened?"

She snorted. "Give me one, just one, good reason why I should trust anything you have to say."

"Because I hate myself every day for the way I treat you." My breath caught; I hadn't meant to say that, but it had slipped out, nonetheless.

She paused, and when she looked back up at me, hurt was shining in her eyes. "Why do you treat me the way you do? I just don't understand. What was it I ever did to you?"

_You made me see who I really am_. Though I didn't say this, it was true. From the day I met her in ninth grade, I had hated her. The way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she acted. Everything about her just bothered me, and it did so for months, until That Day. That Day was the day I realized I was gay. She had worn a short skirt to school, and it was all over for me. I kept catching myself staring at her long, waxed legs, and far too low-cut top, and I realized that the reason I couldn't stand her was because I was in love with her, and I hated that. The funny thing was, my parents were liberal, and wholeheartedly supported gay marriage. No, the reason I didn't want to be gay was very simple. It was my sister.

My sister and I had always hated each other. Not the loving, sisterly, stupid hatred. Actual hatred. I hated everything about the way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she acted, because for as long as I could remember, she made my life hell, ratting me out to our parents when I did something wrong, criticizing my grades, music, way of dress, and it got to a point that everything she like, I despised. Including women. My sister was majorly butch, every lesbian stereotype stuffed into one person. She wore flannel, she worked in construction, she had short hair…every stereotype about lesbians. And it pissed me off. My first view of gay women was through a woman I couldn't stand, so the thought of being one disgusted me, and I did everything I could to be prissy and girly, the ultra-fem. But it never made me happy. So Hermione, to me, was the embodiment of that about myself I hated, that about myself which resembled my sister.

That Day, was approximately nine months ago, at the beginning of the school year, when Hermione wanted to show off her new tan and in-shape legs. That Day, I was extra-mean to her, because I finally couldn't deny to myself what I had known all along: I was a lesbian, and nothing, nothing I did would change that.

But as I stared down into her pretty face, a face I had tried so hard to forget, I couldn't bring myself to say all that. Not right then.

"I don't know," I said softly. "I made a huge mistake. I don't know why I say cruel things, I just do. And I try so hard not too, but it's like, now that I've started, I don't even know how to begin to stop." That last part was true, and I hoped she'd swallow it, because I really wasn't in the mood for a full confession. To my relief, she nodded.

"Makes sense, I guess," she mumbled, and looked around. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced around again. "Can we go someplace else?" she asked finally.

"Sure," I spoke quickly, terrified that this would all fade if I went too slow. "I have a car. Where to?"

"Anywhere," she muttered. "Anywhere but here."

"How about the Starbucks a couple of blocks away?"

She shook her head. "Farther."

"Um…there's a Marble Slab Creamery about two miles from here."

She paused, thinking it over. "That works," she said at length.

"Then let's go."

**Hermione's POV**

I followed her to her car, wondering when the world had gone topsy-turvy. My parents hated me, and my worst enemy was being kind to me. But there was a chance that this could go all "Carrie" and I would have pig's blood all over my now single outfit.

I got in the car and we drove in silence, her glancing at me every few seconds. I couldn't quite explain why, but for some reason I believed that she really just wanted to know how I was. It didn't make sense, and it didn't fit in with what I knew about her, but for some reason, I believed her.

We arrived at the ice cream parlor ten minutes later. We walked inside, as silent as we had been during the car ride. "Do you want anything?" she asked. "My treat."

I shook my head, then nodded, suddenly starving. "Yeah, okay."

Fifteen minutes later we were sitting at a table in a corner, her with a chocolate ice cream with rainbow morsels and strawberry mixings, me with white chocolate ice cream and Twix mixings. I watched her dig into her large waffle cone with vague fascination; I had only gotten a medium cup for myself, and wondered how she kept her shape.

"Do you want to try some?" She brandished a spoon at me, and I took it, trying a small bite of the ice cream. "No, no, no," she said impatiently, getting another spoon. "You have to try it with all the mixin's." She dug out a huge chunk of ice cream with strawberries and rainbow morsels in it and held it out for me to eat. As I opened my mouth, I was suddenly struck with a thought, much as I had been in class the day before. _This is like a date_. But no, that made no sense. Maybe Pansy had just gone to church and was trying to do her good deed for the day. I wasn't sure, but I did know that I didn't want her doing me any favors.

Her ice cream was quite good, and I offered her some of mine, which she cheerfully accepted. However, when it hit her tongue, she grimaced. "That doesn't taste like real chocolate," she muttered grumpily, and I suddenly grinned.

"I didn't know you were such a chocolate freak," I said.

She shrugged, and smiled at me. I was surprised that I found the chocolate she had in her teeth was adorable. "There's a lot of stuff you don't know about me."

"Like the fact that you've got chocolate in your teeth?" I smirked as she made a face at me and closed her mouth, before abandoning all pretense and licking at her cone, spoon forgotten.

"So," she said sternly a couple of minutes later, cone disappeared. "Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to guess?"

I squirmed in my seat, picking at my still-frozen ice cream, appetite forgotten. I could think of no way of telling her what had happened without also telling her I was gay, unless I outright lied, and I doubted she wouldn't see through it anyway. With a suppressed sigh, I looked back up into her warm blue eyes, hardly able to believe that a few hours before she had been calling my jeans "Granny Pants". I rubbed my eyes, hoping to stall while I figured out how exactly I had gotten here, but unfortunately I had rubbed my now-bruised eye. A little gasp of pain escaped me, and Pansy quickly pulled my hands away from my eyes and grasped them in hers.

"What happened?" she asked softly. "Come on, you can tell me."

My heart began to hammer its way through my chest as I frantically searched through my mind for an answer. Finally, I knew that before I answered, first I had to know something.

"How do you feel about gay people?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…." I trailed off lamely as I tried to figure out what I _did_ mean. "Do you support gay rights?"

"Well, yeah." She was looking at me like I was an idiot, and I didn't understand why, until she reminded me, "Do you _know_ who my best friend is?"

"Oh yeah," I muttered, embarrassed. I had forgotten about Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, both of who were mutual friends of ours, and both of who were gay.

"So of course I support gay rights. I don't even understand why anyone wouldn't."

I shrugged. "It's just…that's why I'm here."

"You're gay?" She said it with such ease, such understanding. I nodded nervously, and, before I lost my nerve, I launched into the entire story, starting with coming home.

**Pansy's POV**

By the time she was finished, I felt so torn between fury on her behalf and pride that she could stand up to them like that that I felt almost dizzy.

"You're very brave," I said softly.

She looked back up at me, startled. "No, I'm not," she whispered.

"I think you are," I said frankly. I reached out and touched her hand again uncertainly. "Now, what are we going to do about your living situation?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "I have some money, and a job. I suppose I could go stay at the shelter until I can afford a place of my own."

"That grimy place? No, you're—"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

**A/N:** Okay, so I've received some not-so nice reviews. But I'll be okay! And I know some people don't like angst, but neither of them will die, so don't worry about that. Hermione's just going through a tough time. Sorry if the people reading this don't like cutting, but it's a part of my story, and I'm not going to change it. I appreciate your opinions, but that's one thing which won't change. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	3. Living Arrangements

**A/N:** Ah, new chapters. Fun, fun. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Chapter 3**

**Living Arrangements**

**Hermione's POV**

My heart leaped in my chest as I swiveled around, but Pansy didn't miss a beat. "What do you want, Draco?" she said in a bored voice.

Draco Malfoy sneered at her and turned to me. "So," he said, with an air of smug superiority. "The two lovebirds have finally come together. Love at last. I've waited for so long for this to happen. I told Pansy, day after day, to just be nice to you, and all would fall into place, but alas! It was not meant to be. But finally, finally, it has happened." My eyebrows shot up, and I opened my mouth to ask exactly what he meant by that, but before I could say anything, a hand closed over Draco's wrist.

"All right, bigmouth, that's enough," said a stern voice. Draco looked towards the voice petulantly.

"Oh, come on, Harry. It was just a bit of fun."

"Maybe for _you_." Harry Potter, one of my best friends, shook his head at us in exasperation. "Sorry about this, girls. My idiotic boyfriend has zero common sense." Harry tugged on Draco's hand, and Draco reluctantly followed him back to the table they apparently had been sitting at. As they left, I heard Harry say grumpily to Draco, "I take one minute to go to the bathroom and that's all it takes for you to get yourself into trouble! What am I going to do with you?"

I didn't hear Draco's response, but, judging by the evil grin on his face and Harry's blushing reaction, it couldn't have been exactly angelical. I suppressed a grin and turned back to Pansy, who was watching me with an odd smile on her face.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head and glanced down. "Anyway," she continued. "Like I was saying, I don't want you staying in some crummy shelter until you leave for college. Come stay with me!"

"Huh?" I felt entirely taken aback. "No, I-I can't." I had no good reason why I couldn't, other than the fact that I still didn't entirely trust her. When Draco had come up to us, I was convinced that that was when it was all going to come down on my head, and I'd be the laughingstock of the school. I had friends, certainly, but none were truly close. Ron Weasley and I used to be best friends, but then we had dated and broken up, and things just hadn't been the same since. Harry was probably the closest friend I had, but none of my friends knew that I was gay. I was always afraid that it would leak out somehow and my parents would find out. Well, I guess it didn't matter now. But I still didn't know what she was up to.

"Why can't you?" She was giving me a funny look. "Do you have another place to stay?"

This was a good question, but I still felt slightly afraid. "I—look, I…." But I couldn't tell her the truth, which was that I didn't trust her. Despite my inhibitions, she seemed to guess the answer anyway.

"Hermione, listen to me." Her voice had grown soft, and she held my gaze unwaveringly. "Even my worst enemy doesn't deserve what you've been through, and I'd help them out too."

I hesitated, but something in me seemed to give way, and started to break. I blinked tears away from my eyes quickly, and impulsively touched my right arm, where my scars lay hidden, and my eyes slid shut. I longed to reveal them, to reveal all my secrets, to horrify her so she'd leave me alone and not convince either of us that I had anything in me worth saving. I was broken, I was vile, I was stupid and weak, weak enough to cut myself, something I would have scorned a year before. I had no illusions about who I was, or how stupid cutting was, but I knew, just knew, that if Pansy knew who I truly was, she'd recoil in an instant.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

My eyes flew open, and I tore my hand away from arm as if it were on fire. "Nothing," I said, faster than I'd ever realized I could say anything. The fear of discovery pounded the blood through my heart, and I watched her expression apprehensively. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she seemed to drop it.

"So will you stay with me, or not?" She had refocused on the original topic, and I was relieved, and at the same time horridly disappointed.

"Yeah, okay," I consented, resisting the urge to touch my arm again.

**Pansy's POV**

I felt elated when she agreed to come and stay with me, but I hadn't forgotten her brooding rubbing of her right arm. There was something there, but I didn't know what. Maybe a bruise? Whatever, I'd find out later.

**Hermione's POV**

I walked back with her to her car, silent, thinking. My job at Sears paid okay, $10.50 an hour, and I had a fair amount saved up, approximately $3000, as I had been saving for a car, but now that money would probably need to be spent on a place to stay, as I was _definitely_ not planning on staying with Pansy for any longer than I had to.

We got into her car and drove to her place. She tried a few feeble attempts at more conversation, but I wasn't feeling too chatty at the moment, and she fell silent after a few one-word responses from me.

We reached her house about ten minutes after leaving the ice cream parlor. She got out, but I stayed in the car, clutching my backpack and gazing through the window at her three-story pink house. She waited patiently though, and, after a few moments, I felt able to move my legs again, and I got out of the car. She turned and walked towards the house. I watched her go, gazing at the even tan in her long, muscular legs, feeling very self-conscious of the baggy jeans covering my pale white, sadly flabby legs, before I reluctantly followed her, pressing against my love handles with the sides of my arms. I wasn't fat, or even overweight, but compared to this blonde goddess, all I could feel was incredibly out of shape and pale.

I entered through the door after her and reluctantly shut it. She gave me a small smile and led me upstairs. I trod up them, looking around at the pictures on the wall of Pansy, people I could only assume were her parents, and an extremely butch-looking woman who Pansy was often standing next to with a scowl.

"That's my sister." I jumped and looked around at Pansy, who was gazing at a picture of her sister with a look of extreme dislike on her face.

"Oh," I said lamely. "Is she—I mean, I don't want to assume anything, but—"

"Yes, she's gay," Pansy said testily. "See, there she is with her girlfriend." Pansy pointed to a picture of her sister standing next to a pretty brunette.

I nodded, and Pansy turned away from the pictures. She led me down the hallway and knocked on a door at the end of it. "Mom?" she called, sliding the door open, to reveal a woman hunched over a computer, typing so fast the words were delayed in arriving on the screen.

"Not now, honey," Mrs. Parkinson said distractedly. "I'm on a roll."

Pansy pulled back and motioned for me to lean closer. "When she gets like this with her writing, it's best to just let her finish and then bother her. She's a really good writer, she writes political novels, fiction, and op-eds for the newspaper. She won the Pulitzer Prize for her article on gay marriage."

"Wow," I said, impressed. I wasn't much of a writer, but I appreciated good writing. I was more into metaphysics, as I found black holes and string theory fascinating.

"Yeah," Pansy said, and we sat in companionable silence, watching Mrs. Parkinson finish up writing. She sat back with a sigh, closing her eyes. She ruffled her hair, and then stood up, looking exhausted but thrilled.

"Oh, hello, Pansy dear," she said, embracing her younger daughter. She turned to me. "Hello, I'm Sarinia Parkinson, Pansy's mother. It's lovely to meet you, Ms…?"

"Granger," I said quickly, extending my hand to grasp hers. "Hermione Granger."

"Well, Hermione," Mrs. Parkinson said, her eyes twinkling. "It's a pleasure, I must say, though your parents have caused quite a bit of trouble for my allies as well as me in the political arena."

"Actually, that's why she's here," Pansy jumped in. She glanced at me. "Mind if I tell her?"

"Sure," I said helplessly, beginning to feel more and more like my life was out of my control.

"She's gay, and her parents found out and kicked her out. She's got no place to stay, and I thought we could—"

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Parkinson said, turning newly concerned eyes upon me. "Stay as long as you need to, dear, even if that means until you graduate. You're a junior, correct?"

"Yes," I said, and quickly added, "But I don't need to stay here quite that long. Just a couple of weeks, if that's all right, until I get myself a place."

"A girl so young as you shouldn't be staying on her own," Mrs. Parkinson said, her gaze troubled. "I would truly love it if you stayed with us. We have more than enough money, and more than enough space. It's not as if we would use it for anything else. You should save your money for college."

"I—" I wasn't quite sure what to say. I had never needed charity before, and I wasn't sure I liked it now. But I was in a desperate situation. "Thank you so much. I think I just need to sleep on it."

Mrs. Parkinson smiled. "I think you're right. Call me Sarinia, by the way."

"All right," I said, and returned her smile tentatively. "Will your husband be okay with this?"

Sarinia snorted. "My _husband_!" she scoffed. "He's so busy wrapped up in equations that he wouldn't care if a herd of donkeys moved in!"

"He's a mathematician," Pansy clarified at my bemused look.

"Anyway, girls, I must be getting back to my writing. Ray and David call. Ta." Sarinia disappeared back into her studio, shutting the door behind her.

Pansy laughed. "She's writing a novel about two gay men who run against each other for governor of Texas, and secretly have this mad affair. It's really funny."

I grinned at the thought. "Come on, my room is this way." I followed more easily this time as she walked up the next flight of stairs.

"My room is the entire third floor," she said over her shoulder.

"Cool," I said, and meant it. At my old house, I'd had an entire wing, but it had been informal and cold. Here was warm and cozy. I instantly felt more at home than I had been able to feel in seventeen years at my parent's place.

We emerged onto a small landing which had a single door. We went through it, and emerged in a gloriously beautiful room, painted in soft blue, green, silver, and yellow colors, the green and silver often entwined. Sunlight was streaming through a balcony, and there were several bookshelves, a state of the art computer on a desk, a big bed with a blue flower comforter and several stuffed animals, a bean bag lying on the floor, a gay pride flag covering one whole section of the wall, several CDs lying stacked around, several movies, a television, some little figurines, an open door which led to a green and silver bathroom, which looked to be huge as well, closet doors, an acoustic guitar, and many posters on the walls.

I walked over to the balcony and threw the doors open, walking out onto the tiled terrace, with some chairs sitting there around a table. The veranda looked out onto a wild, glorious garden, with leaves tangled, a fountain, flowers, fruit trees, some vegetables, and a few cats roaming around hunting the birds who were foolish enough to stop at the fountain. I looked back to Pansy with shining eyes.

"It's wonderful," I whispered. Pansy, who had been sitting on her bed, petting a dark, calico cat, grinned at me.

"I know," she said. "I love this house." She lifted up the cat, holding her out to me. I took her, knowing that it was a her from sixth-grade biology, when I had learned that the gene for calico was only on the X chromosome in cats, and it required two X chromosomes to be dominant.

"That's Athena," Pansy told me. "She's about a year old, and she's all mine. Isn't she pretty?"

She _was_ pretty, I had to admit, with piercing green eyes and soft fur. "Yes," I said, sitting down on the fluffy white carpeted floor and cradling her in my lap. "She's very pretty."

Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed. "Ooh, Daddy's home!" Pansy squealed, leaping up and running out the door. I set the cat down and followed at a slower pace, watching as I walked down to the first floor Pansy wrapping her arms around the thin waist of a balding man who looked to be a bit mad, muttering to himself and counting out numbers on his hands.

"Hello, sweetheart," he muttered distractedly. "It's lovely to see you."

"Look, Daddy, I brought home a friend. She's going to be staying with us for a while," Pansy said, pulling me forward. Mr. Parkinson seemed to snap out of his daze, and shook my hand firmly.

"Hello, how do you do?" he greeted my courteously. "My name is Henry Parkinson. You can call me Daniel. What may I call you?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," I introduced myself, returning his handshake with a rather firm grip of my own. "You can call me Hermione. It's a pleasure."

"Likewise, I'm sure," he said.

"She's staying with us because her parents kicked her out of the house because she's gay," Pansy jumped in. I flushed, but Henry took it all in stride.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, and he appeared to actually mean it. "Yes, of course, stay with us as long as you like." He turned to address Pansy. "You'll take care of her, yes?"

Pansy nodded, and he seemed satisfied with the answer. "Good, now, how about roast, mashed potatoes, and broccoli for supper?"

Pansy nodded eagerly, and even I couldn't resist a smile at the thought. "Good, good," he muttered, and he fell back to thinking about equations, I presumed. "Dinner will be ready in about two hours. Make sure to at least attempt to drag your mother away from her computer so she has something to eat."

"Will do," Pansy grinned.

"Do you need any help with dinner?" I offered. He laughed.

"No, no, it's my way of trying to rid my head of equations before I truly try to interact with my family," he assured me. "But I appreciate the offer. You and Pansy can clean the dishes though, if you like," he added hopefully.

"Sure," I said quickly. "It's the least I can do."

He smiled at me and went to the kitchen. I followed Pansy up the stairs and proceeded to dive into my homework, aching to forget the day. She also worked on homework and studying for finals and AP tests, and when dinner was served we were almost done.

It was in fact, rather easy to get Sarinia to come down and eat something. She seemed to have hit a roadblock and wasn't too pleased by it. Dinner was quite good, and I found it a welcome relief from the fish my mother constantly foisted upon me. That was, before she kicked me out of her house. I swallowed a lump in my throat and continued to eat.

When Pansy and I were cleaning the dishes as her parents talked, I brought up the sleeping situation. "Where am I going to sleep?" I asked suddenly. She glanced at me, startled, and then shrugged, resuming the drying of the dishes.

"I'm not sure," she said truthfully. "See, we have several spare rooms, but we never really pay attention to those, so they'd have to be cleaned out. We can probably get our maid, Lolita, to do it."

"You have a maid?" I said in some surprise. Though my house had been huge, my mother always kept it clean. She felt it was part of her job as a "Republican Mother".

"Yeah," Pansy said. She smirked. "Who did you think kept the house clean? My mother? She spends all day wrapped up in her writing, my father in his equations, and me with school! We definitely need a maid. We all know how to do our own dishes and laundry and stuff, but it's easier and takes less time to pay a maid to do it."

"Ah," I said. This seemed to make sense. "Does she live here?"

"Nah, she comes every other day to clean the bathrooms, empty the garbage, you know, but no, she doesn't live here. She just came today, so we'll have to wait until Monday to get her to clean out one of the rooms for you. She takes Saturday and Sunday off for her family and religion. Until then, would you mind bunking with me?"

"No, I wouldn't mind," I said, feeling a faint blush touch my cheeks. "I'm really grateful to you and your family for doing this."

Pansy groaned. "Hermione, seriously, it's fine. Stop thanking us, or I'll go insane."

I laughed. "Short trip," I grinned mischievously, and she swatted me with the dish towel.

Later that night, after I had finished my homework, brushed my teeth with a spare tooth brush she lent me, taken a shower, dried myself with a borrowed towel, and donned borrowed clothes, I snuggled into the lovely warmth of her bed.

"Are you going to sleep?" I asked her drowsily.

She smiled at me. "In a little bit." I nodded and fell asleep.

A few hours later I awoke, and found that she was not in bed beside me. I had rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up when I heard the singing. Carefully I moved off of the bed and walked towards the balcony, where the sound was coming from. I saw Pansy, guitar in hand, strumming and singing very quietly, but loud enough that I could hear the words of her song.

_Watch Christmas trees and fairy queens_

_Dance among the destroyed green_

_She is free if I can let her be_

_But never, never look at me_

_And don't expect_

_What you can never get_

_And all inept_

Her voice was sweet and melodious. I didn't recognize the song, even when I heard the chorus, but nonetheless, I liked it. I moved a bit closer, to better hear the song.

_With tongue blisters and sneering sisters_

_All I know is that I miss her_

_She goes on and never looks_

_But has my heart by the hook_

_And don't expect_

_What you can never get_

_And all inept_

I carefully sat down, trying so hard not to disturb her and let her know I was there. Her eyes were closed, and she had a rather sad, pained look on her face

_She pulls me away and starts to lay_

_While killing me, but every day_

_My fairy's heart is all apart_

_And goes into the lingering dark_

_'Cause I expect_

_What I can never get_

_Because I'm inept._

She was framed by the dying moonlight, and her lips looked even pinker in the white light, her skin smooth and soft. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

_It's me she kisses, and me she misses_

_Because I'm the only one that listens_

_But it's all imaginary, just like endless chocolate cherries_

_Because she's the one that I've buried_

_And I don't expect_

_Because I won't get_

_My fairy inept._

Her voice held on the last few chords of the song, and I saw a glittering tear roll down her cheek. "Don't ever expect," she whispered, and I silently scrambled backwards into the room as I saw her eyes begin to open. She put her guitar back in its case and came inside, setting it gently against the wall. She then went over to the balcony doors and quietly closed them, locking them firmly. She then got in bed, which by this time I was already in with my eyes closed. She removed her jewelry and rolled over, seeming to fall asleep instantly, but I was wide awake, with one thought circling my mind, now stronger than ever with conviction.

_She's a lesbian_.

**A/N:** Ah, well, I wrote most of that tonight, and I must say, I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. The song, as y'all may or may not have figured out, is of my own creation, actually written not about a girl, but about my muse. It was only when I was thinking about this story that it occurred to me how well it fit, and, since I never got to perform it in my songwriting class, I thought that this would be the perfect place for it! Lol. Anyway, you all begged for this chapter, so here it is, though I really wish y'all would read and review SOTP. I like it a lot too. Anyway, Adios!

-CatJetRat


	4. What Could Be Considered Friends

**A/N:** As I grow older and older, I grow more and more confused about my sexuality. Part of me thinks that I'm straight, but another part of me, which may or may not be larger, thinks I'm gay. I suppose this story sort of helps me work through that confusion. It's one of the few HGPP stories on and I want to make it a good story, because I love femmeslash. If anyone has any suggestions for good Hermione/Pansy stories, I'd love to hear them. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Chapter 4**

**What Could Be Considered Friends**

**Pansy's POV**

It was quite early when I first awoke. I glanced at the clock. 7 a.m. I stretched out, feeling joyous when I remembered that it was Saturday. My hand then knocked against something warm. I froze and turned over. My heart leapt in my chest when I saw who it was, and, for a moment, I entertained a fantasy about how she might have gotten there, before my memory caught up with me. I relaxed, and rolled over, relishing in the details of her face in the morning.

Her mouth was slightly open, her hair mussed to an extreme degree. I wrinkled my nose when she exhaled, getting a good whiff of morning breath. I ignored it, though, after a few seconds. She looked so content, so relaxed that I wished I could let her stay like that for an eternity. But then her eyelids fluttered, and my fairy was taken away from me.

"Wha' time 's it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Seven," I whispered. She groaned.

"Remind me why I'm awake," she muttered, burying her face into the pillow. Then she sat straight up.

"What the hell?" she said sharply, looking around, alert and tense. Then all the confusion left her face, and she looked rather weary. "Oh. I remember now. Shit."

Something seemed to break inside of me at the sight of her crumpled face. I reached out and touched the side of her cheek. "Hey, it's okay," I said gently.

"Yeah, whatever," she said flatly, and got up. "Mind if I take a shower?"

I shook my head, and watched her walk swiftly into the bathroom, scratching at her right forearm again. I fell back against the bed, and got up, grabbing my guitar. I plucked at the strings, making sure it was tuned, and paused, wondering what to sing. I settled on an unfinished song, not even a song, really, just some lines.

_"The ceiling glitters,_

_"The cabin shivers,_

_"And I don't know what to do._

_"The cat purrs,_

_"The lady slurs,_

_"And I don't know what to do._

_"As the moonlight dies_

_"And the children cry,_

_"I'm left with little to do._

_"I would have laughed away_

_"All your cries today_

_"If the fairies left me with news._

_"But the cat wants attention_

_"While I'm in detention,_

_"With nothing else to do."_

My voice faded, and I gazed down at the guitar in my hands, running through the songs in my head, wondering which one I should sing next. But my mind failed me, and I looked towards the bathroom door, heartily aware of the fact that the woman I had an insane crush on was likely naked right now, bathing herself in _my_ bathroom. I put my guitar away and walked out to the veranda, looking out over my backyard, which was somehow more beautiful now than it had ever been before.

I wanted to feel bad that Hermione had been kicked out of her home, but somehow, I couldn't manage it. Had she not been kicked out, life probably would have gone on the way it always had done, and we might have even left high school without me ever telling her how I feel.

Not that this was a very likely possibility, I mused with a frown, leaning against the railing. I was too much of a wimp to ever admit how I felt to her. And besides, all the other cheerleaders would kick me off the team if I came out. But then, why did I even care? What did the opinions of Millicent and all those other idiots matter to me? What the hell was wrong with me?

I stood there, thinking about all of this for the half-hour it took Hermione to take a shower. She emerged from the bathroom toweling her hair dry and frowning.

"What's wrong?" I asked, coming inside.

"It's just…there are a lot of items at my house that I really need and want," she said, rubbing her hair.

"So let's go get them," I suggested, rather reasonably, I thought. She laughed at me.

"I can't do that," Hermione said. "Remember, my parents disowned me. Hell, they've probably changed the locks by now. Besides, my mom stays home during the day. The perfect housewife," she added mockingly. "The perfect housewife who had a maid, and let her daughter be raised by the maid, using her as a nanny. What a fucking hypocrite."

I felt a sudden sense of unease, staring at her pretty face, contorted in anger. "Hey, it's okay. It doesn't matter now." I took a step towards her, reaching a hand out. She ducked away from my hand. My heart clenched.

"Yeah, sure. Do you have something I can wear?"

"Um, yeah," I muttered. "My mom washed your clothes." I gestured to the folded clothes on a chair. "Look, is there any way to sneak into your house?"

Hermione turned away from me to get dressed, but I felt my cheeks warm nonetheless at the sight of her bare back. "Maybe during church," she said contemplatively. "If they changed the locks, I might be able to sneak in through my bedroom window."

"Great," I said. "So, tomorrow, during church, we'll sneak in."

She shook her head. "We can go today. They go to church on Saturdays too."

"All right. Just let me get dressed, and we'll go," I said brightly.

"Don't you want to take a shower?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll take one when we get back. What time do they leave for church?"

"7:30," Hermione told me.

"Cool."

Ten minutes later, after a hurried explanation to my mother, who was, oddly enough, awake, we were in my car and driving to her house. I glanced at her hands. She was twisting her fingers in her lap, occasionally pausing to rub her right arm.

"What's wrong with your arm?" I asked her again. She tore her hand away from her right forearm immediately.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" she said in a rush.

"Because you rub at it whenever you're agitated," I said. "Is there something—"

"No," she said hurriedly. "Nothing at all. It's just a habit."

Then I lost my temper. "You're lying to me!" I exclaimed, glad we had pulled up to a red light or I might have just veered the car right off the road. "Why don't you just tell me—"

Pressing her arm into her side as if afraid I might reach out to grab it, she shouted back, "Because it's none of your goddamn business!"

A ringing silence fell, and I concentrated on the road in front of me. The red light turned green, and I continued down the road. "I see," I said quietly.

She pressed her face into her hands, and I could see them quivering. "No, you really don't," she responded tiredly.

"Then help me," I pressed her.

"I can't," she whispered. "You don't know what it's like. All my life, I grew up raised basically by the maid. She was like a mother to me, and she was from Mexico. She taught me Spanish, and American politics. She was really liberal, and an Atheist as well. She taught me so much, and then my parents found out, when I was sixteen, because I was fool enough to sneer at Mr. Bush when he was speaking on the television, at the same time Flor did. They figured it out from there, and called Immigration on her, since she didn't have a green card." Tears welled in Hermione's eyes. "I haven't seen her since, and it was all my fault."

"Hermione," I spoke gently as I pulled the car over to the side of the road. "It really wasn't your fault. Your parents were assholes."

"But I don't even know how to find her!" Hermione said desperately. "Pansy, how would you feel if you went with out seeing your mother for over a year and a half?"

"Pretty crappy," I said honestly.

Hermione nodded. "She was my mother, whatever biology says. I miss her, god, I miss her."

I reached out and took her arm in my hand. I pulled the sleeve up. Though I had been pretty sure of what I would find there, it still didn't prepare me for the sight of the many little cuts adorning her arms. "Is that why you did this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice kind and compassionate.

She looked down at her arm in some surprise, as if she had never really taken the time to assess the damage she had done to herself. She nodded.

"Oh, god, Hermione," I sighed, running my thumb across the cuts. "I wish you had gone to someone."

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Who? Anyone I would have gone to would have just gotten it back to my parents somehow. If I told a teacher, or something, they would have insisted I get help, and my parents would have sent me to some religious school. If I told a friend, _they_ would have told a teacher, and it would have just…." Hermione shook her head.

I focused on the scars on her arm, my heart breaking at the mere sight of them. Her entire body was shaking, and I ran my hand down her arm to clasp her hand. She looked up at me, on the verge of tears. I wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away, hold her, and fix all of her problems in an instant. But instead….

I kissed her.

**Hermione's POV**

I looked back up at her, horrified at the tears that were attempting to force their way out of my eyes, and scared that I would see nothing but disgust in hers. I was wrong. Her eyes held love, compassion, and protectiveness. For the third time, and at a completely inappropriate moment, my gaydar went off. Of course, perhaps it wasn't so much inappropriate as it was ironic, as she chose that same moment to kiss me.

My breath caught. Her lips were warm and soft on mine, and as she ran her fingers through my hair, I felt goosebumps erupt all along my skin. She opened her mouth up to mine and plunged her tongue into wrap around mine.

It was the most incredible feeling ever. Her tongue was warm, wet, and exploring. I did a little exploring of my own. My hand fell on the gentle swell of her hips, and I slid my hand up her shirt, tracing the skin there in little circles. For the first time I was able to let go. I felt safe and terrified at the same time, all the while exhilaration covering both of these emotions. Her hands moved from my hair to my shirt, slowly unbuttoning it. She got a few buttons down, and undid the front clasp on my bra. I shuddered at the feel of her cold hands sliding across my warm front. She pressed her fingers into the soft flesh of my breasts, almost as if she was _trying_ to warm her hands up. I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid easily into her lap, not breaking the kiss, frightened that if I did so, she'd realize who she was kissing and shove me away. But then she broke it for me, burying her face in my bosom, placing tender kisses along the skin there. I laid my head across the top of hers, trembling violently as she began to suck on my left nipple, running a hand across the other. She pulled away after a few moments and brought me back down to kiss her again.

I had to pull away after a few minutes, though, to catch my breath. "Wow," I whispered.

"That about sums it up," she agreed, and I laughed, staring at her. She was still looking at me with the same love and respect she had before, and I leaned forward, catching her mouth in another kiss.

She broke it after a few moments, though. "Am I coming on too strong?" she asked worriedly.

I laughed. "No. I've had a thing for you for a while."

She grinned. "Really? You too."

"Since when?" I asked curiously.

"Since that day you wore that outfit to school at the beginning of this year," she said.

My brow furrowed, and I remembered what she was talking about with a laugh. "Oh, yeah, I spent all summer not shaving my legs so I could wax them. It was absolute torture, but I was finally able to, and I was feeling rebellious that day, so I hid the skirt and shirt in my backpack, putting them on when I got to school." I shrugged. "I wanted to look pretty, for once. I hated it, of course, and, I mean, that was the day Ronald Weasley asked me out. I tried never to do it again."

"Well, it did it for me," she said dryly. "I saw you, and realized that I was gay and in love with you. Of course, that pissed me off, and it was impossible for me to be nice to you after that."

"Why?" I asked with a frown. She shrugged.

"Just…issues with my sister." When I continued to look at her expectantly, she shook her head. "I'll tell you about it later. I'm not really in the mood right now." She grinned suddenly. "I'm in the breaking and entering sort of mood."

"Me too," I said, sliding off of her lap. I did up my bra and buttoned my shirt. I wondered vaguely if I had ever felt this happy before. I decided that I probably hadn't, and smiled.

Life was getting good.

**A/N:** Ah, yes, I could have added so much more to this chapter, but I wanted to end on fluff, since I just wrote a really depressing chapter of SOTP. Next chapter, breaking and entering! YAY! Lol, and a few other things. Review, my sweets! Adios!

-CatJetRat


	5. Broken

**A/N: **All right, now, a certain reviewer wasn't too happy with the way I portrayed Christians in my story. So let me make something very clear. In no way do I think all Christians are homophobic imbeciles. I disagree with the religion of Christianity, but those who want to be Christian have that right. They have the right to their opinion, and I have the right to mine. There are many bigoted Christians in the world, and that's what I was showing in Hermione's parents. I was not saying that all Christians are like that, and I don't think that I gave any indication that I thought that to be true. But someone complained, so here it is. Sadly for those complainers, there will be more Christian bashing in this chapter, and I reiterate: I do not believe that every Christian is like this but you need to accept that some Christians are. If you have a problem with that, then you probably shouldn't read this. Enjoy the new chapter. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Chapter 5**

**Broken**

**Pansy's POV**

When Hermione's house came into view, she started trembling. Not violently, but to the point that I could see her fingers twitching. My gaze returned to the house as we drove past its pillars (_pillars_?). It was, for all appearances, completely deserted. I glanced back at Hermione, who was rubbing her right arm again. I reached out and took her left hand, and smiled reassuringly. She smiled back, a weak smile, albeit, but a smile nonetheless.

"We should—" she began in a hoarse tone. She cleared her throat and began again. "We should park around back. It's more inconspicuous, and that's where my room is anyway."

I nodded and released her had so I could turn a corner. The moment I did that she began to rub her arm again. I suppressed a sigh.

I parked under the cover of some trees and we got out, quietly shutting the door. "Lead the way, madame," I said with a small smile. She grinned at last and slowly opened the back gate. We emerged into a garden straight out of A Rich Person's Guide to a Snooty Backyard. I nearly vomited at the sight of the fountain of baby angels with water spewing forth from their wings. The grass was neat, and there was a cobblestone path leading straight to the back door with signs saying, I kid you not, 'Stay off the Grass'. There were no fruit trees, no herb garden. Merely pointless grass and perfectly trimmed rose bushes, which was a shame, since I actually like roses.

We reached the back door and she pulled out her key, trying the lock. Her breath caught when it clicked open.

"I was sure they would have changed the locks by now," she whispered.

"Maybe _they_ aren't sure," I said pointedly.

"Maybe," she mumbled, and opened the door.

The house had hardwood floors, a designer kitchen, designer furniture, designer everything. It was disgusting.

"Jesus, what do your parents do for a living?" I asked in awe.

"My dad is a high-powered lawyer. He works for insurance companies and they pay him big bucks protect them from the oh-so-dangerous poor people that they insure when they screw them over," Hermione sneered.

"Oh," I said, I tried not to let my disgust show.

"But they had money to begin with, of course, so whatever."

She moved towards the stairs and I followed her closely, feeling anxious and apprehensive. This place set my teeth on edge and I couldn't tell why. Then we reached the living room and Hermione stopped walking.

**Hermione's POV**

I felt dizzy and out of breath. The entire situation was already so surreal. I had been kicked out of my home and was now staying with someone I thought had hated me and I had just kissed her even though I'd been certain she was straight. Now I had reached the place where everything had gone down and I just couldn't take it anymore.

I sank to my knees, gasping, in the same place my father had thrown me to the previous day. My world was spinning, and I was powerless to stop it. But I wasn't the only person there. Warm arms circled around me and suddenly my face and tears were being pressed into warmth and softness. Pansy stroked my head as the tears that had before been swallowed by her lips finally fell. I shook and trembled in her arms, terrified she would push me away at any moment and I'd be alone again in a cold harsh world. A world where no one wanted me because I was too ugly and fat and stupid to ever achieve anything. But her arms didn't loosen, her assurance didn't waver, and for the first time I felt a little tiny bit less alone. I felt loved, which I hadn't felt since Flor had left. I gathered up what was left of my strength and stopped crying. Because honestly, where would crying get me? Not out of this house, I felt certain of that. I looked into Pansy's eyes, afraid I'd see pity there, but all I saw was love.

"Let's go," I said in a hoarse voice, and to my relief, she said nothing about what had just occurred. She simply nodded and stood up. I followed suit and took the stairs two at a time, suddenly worried that my parents might come home at any point, even though I knew they weren't due back for at least another two hours.

I opened the door to my room and found it unchanged. I anxiously opened my closet and dragged my suitcase out of it. I rushed around grabbing my notebooks and clothes, and DVDs. I wasn't much of a packrat, and everything I wanted I managed to fit into that suitcase while Pansy kept watch.

"Ready?" she said when I emerged from my room. I nodded quickly, and started dragging my suitcase. She snorted in contempt and grabbed it from me in her well-muscled arms. I felt the faint stirrings of discontent at this, but tried to ignore it.

"I carry heavy trays for a living," she smirked. "Besides, I'm obviously the man in this relationship."

My annoyance at her attitude faded in an instant. Relationship? This was a relationship? Oh gods. I had had plenty of boyfriends who had tried and failed to interest me in their dicks, but never a girlfriend. I had experimented with my friend Angela at summer camp starting when I was thirteen, and ever since then, every time we saw each other there we fooled around with each other, but that hadn't been a relationship, merely a fulfillment of basic needs. I had also hooked up with a couple of girls I had met at parties of Draco's my parents tentatively let me attend, but none of those had gone past a single night. They hadn't been interested in having a girlfriend. So I was a bit at a loss. Was this a relationship? Since when?

My obsessive musings were interrupted by the sound of a key clicking into the front door. I froze. Had I been longer than I'd thought? I checked my phone. No. It was only 8:30. What the hell was going on?

Pansy looked at me in terror and I motioned back up the stairs. We hurried up quickly but quietly. I caught the tail end of my parent's conversation.

"—still don't see why we had to leave before the end of the Reverend's speech, Connie, seems a bit rude, don't you think?"

"I don't care," I heard my mother snap. "We have work to do. We still need to change the locks, and then consecrate and burn everything in her room to symbolize the flames of hell she can probably already feel beneath her feet, and will one day consume her."

"I know, but I've been thinking, I mean, she's still our daughter, shouldn't we be trying to save her immortal soul?"

"She's already too far gone," my mother snarled. "It's best we forget about her as quickly as possible, and have another child. I know I have been unsuccessful in the past in bearing you children, but we must try. It still horrifies me that you needed to rape that old maid, Flower, or whatever, so we could even have a child. Perhaps you should have raped Hermione as well—you're good at that, right? Doesn't the minister have your help in curing young girls of lesbianism?"

"Yes, but I specialize in 12-13 year old girls who show signs of deviance. They're fairly easy to work with, and quickly succumb. I might have to get Roger's help. He's bigger and better at controlling the older girls, 15-17. I wish we had seen this sooner, I could have started helping Hermione at a much younger age and helped her appreciate and succumb to men so that she would be ready to marry when she turned 18 or 19 and start bearing children as quickly as possible."

"Yes, well, too little too late. Let's get changed and head to the hardware store."

They began ascending the stairs, but at that point Pansy and I had already shut the door to my room silently. I leaned against the wall, panting in abject horror. It was far too much information to take in at once. Flor was my mother? My father raped young girls and my mother knew about it? What the hell was going on?

Pansy's hand was tight on my arm, for which I felt relieved. She was grounding me, which I severely needed at this point. I sat there and listened to my parents leave.

"Come on," Pansy said urgently, and grabbed my suitcase and my hand and dragged a dazed and stumbling me out of the house.

She shoved my suitcase into her trunk and gently led me to the front passenger seat. After all, I was in no condition to do anything for myself.

**Pansy's POV**

I shot worried look after worried look at Hermione, who seemed totally out of it. Then again, I would be too. I was struggling to contain my anger and horror, but suffice it to say I would inform my parents when I got home that they should closely look at the young girls of Reverend Jeff's church for signs of sexual abuse.

When we got back to my place, I took Hermione and her suitcase upstairs and told her I would be just a moment. Once I was certain that she had heard me, I went downstairs to my mother and grabbed my grumpy father from his morning newspaper and told them what had happened. Horror turned to disgust and revulsion as they listened to my tale and promised to look into it. Then they insisted that I check on Hermione, like I needed to be told to do that! I rolled my eyes and ran upstairs, and my heart stopped dead at what I saw.

Hermione's right sleeve was rolled up, and she was slicing violently at her right arm with what looked like a razor.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cried, and ran over, wrenching the razor away from her and cutting my own fingers in the process. "What the hell, Hermione? Why on earth would you—" I paused at what I saw on her arm. She had been connecting her scars to form words. So far I could make out 'I AM NOTH'. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked back up at her deadened face.

"You are _not_ nothing," I whispered rough voice. "You are beautiful and strong and intelligent and—"

A snort of laughter escaped her but I ignored it.

"—and you do not need to feel this way. Nor do you need to punish yourself like this. Stop. Just _stop_."

Finally she got around to looking at me, and I nearly broke to pieces at what I saw in her eyes. And perhaps I had been wrong. For I truly saw nothing there. No happiness, no love, no anger. I no longer even saw the broken little girl I had seen before. There was just nothing there. And perhaps I recoiled slightly, perhaps this recognition showed in my eyes, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps a million things I don't know. But whatever my unconscious reaction had been, it confirmed her worst fear. She stood up and walked away from me. I stayed on the floor, scared and confused for her. She went to the bathroom and washed her arm off, then bandaged it, and I hadn't a clue how to act or what to do. I was at a loss. She then went downstairs. I didn't follow. I didn't know how to. Ten minutes later she came back up and grabbed her suit case and the rest of her things.

"Don't go," I begged quietly. She paused, but only for half a second. Then she was out the door and gone. I regained the use of my limbs in the next thirty seconds and rushed after her. She was at the door by the time I got there, thanking my bewildered parents. Her gaze flickered to me, and I struggled to understand what had happened. She took off out the door and got into Harry's car. My parents questioned me, but I ignored them. After all, I had no more answers than they did.

* * *

The next Monday at school, she was in the main hallway, same as usual, hair curled, the bruises on her face quite visible. My cronies and I walked past her, and as we did, the stupidest and sluttiest of them called out to her.

"What happened to your face, Granger?" Ginny Weasley taunted. "Had a collision with a bookshelf?"

"More like a collision with reality," she replied softly. Her gaze met mine, almost daring me to laugh with the rest of them. I stayed silent. "Which I think, is what Parkinson needs about her chances of passing Pre-Cal."

My face flushed. Math was my weak point. She knew that. What the hell was she doing? Had last Friday and Saturday just been my imagination?

"Well at least I don't have to bury myself in school to convince myself I'm intelligent," I replied, stumbling a little over my words. But then I felt that I had made a mistake. Her gaze was one of satisfaction at this.

"No, I doubt anything could convince anyone of that," she sneered, and walked away.

My head began to spin. What the fuck was going on?!

I tried to talk to Harry but he just waved me off and wouldn't answer any of my questions. Desperate, I tried to corner Hermione after school, but she eluded me and escaped in Harry's car. I was tempted to follow them, but I wasn't _quite_ that creepy.

For the next week I tried to talk to her, but she kept avoiding me. I went home for the weekend with a promise to myself to continue to pursue her. But when I got to school on Monday she wasn't there. I felt a little annoyed, but I could wait.

On Tuesday, she still hadn't shown up. By Wednesday, I was feeling flustered and so I went down to the office to demand to know where she was.

"But Ms. Granger's graduated," the lady at the front desk said in surprise. "She's got all of her credits, and she asked to receive her diploma early. She's no longer enrolled here."

"Wh-what?" I stammered. "Why?"

"I don't know," the lady shrugged. "She spoke to the principle for about an hour on Thursday, and then on Friday came back to see him, and emerged from his office carrying her diploma."

"I don't understand," I said. I felt dizzy. The lady merely shrugged, and I left her office just as the bell for lunch rang, more confused than ever. Then I saw Harry.

"Harry!" I shouted, and nearly bowled over Draco in my attempts to reach his boyfriend. He turned around, and the look he gave me was almost pitying. My heart lurched.

"Where is she? I know you know, don't _fuck_ with me, Harry, please, I need to know. I need her. Please, Harry, just tell me," I went from demanding to begging in one breath. He sighed.

"I actually don't know where she is. I gave her one of my cars since I have plenty and she took off. Said she needed to sort through some things. She did ask me to give you this, once you realized she was gone." He pulled out a necklace. Hanging from it was a tiny, heart-shaped vial full of something red.

"Oh god," I whispered. "Is that what I think it is?"

He ignored that comment. "She said that as long as you kept that, the two of you were connected. She said she kept the razor, so she always has something of you."

I took the necklace and sat down in the middle of the busy hallway, annoying a lot of students. "I'm sorry," Harry said gently, and he took Draco's hand, and they disappeared into the crowd. I sat there, staring at the necklace, until a hall monitor came over and told me firmly to move it along. I got up numbly, and gingerly, lovingly, put the necklace over my head until it fell around my neck. It was surprisingly light. I whimpered in misery. But she was gone. And I had no idea where.

**Mexico City**

**Hermione's POV**

"Perdón," I said politely in Spanish to the man behind the fish. "Do you happen to know where this address is?" I showed it to him. He nodded.

"Allá," he said, pointing to a street.

"Gracias," I thanked him, and went down the street, looking at the shabby houses. Finally, I arrived in front of a rundown pink house. A woman emerged from the house, carrying laundry. She pulled it out and started hanging it up to dry. My heart felt like it might explode.

"Madre," I called out softly. She looked up with a frown, and then spotted me. She froze, and the laundry slowly fell from her limp fingers.

"Mi hija," she breathed. "Hermione! What are you doing here?"

I smiled tentatively. "The stupid Americans (this was how we often referred to my parents) found out that I was gay. They kicked me out and I found out you're my mother. I graduated, and I thought I should come find you."

"Oh, no," she whispered. "I am so sorry I left you with them. I should have taken you with me and told everyone you were my daughter. I thought you would be safer with them. I should have known better. Come here."

And before I knew it, I was being drowned in her arms again, listening to her whisper, "Te quiero," in my ear over and over again, until I wasn't broken anymore. Until I realized that no matter how cruel love could be, it would never be so with her. But Pansy…I had left her behind. I loved her, and let her down. So I suppose it remains truth. Love is cruel.

**A/N:** Okay, yeah, that ending was really sudden. And a lot of you are probably pretty pissed. Especially after waiting for so long. But no worries! A sequel is in the works, and will maybe come out sometime this year. Okay, maybe sooner. Lol. I don't know how I feel about this chapter. Usually I work up to the ending. But I felt like the point had been made. They fell in love in highly unusual, broken circumstances. It never would have lasted if they had stayed together. And they both had issues of their own to work through. Sequel will be set sometime in the future, five years, maybe? Thanks for everyone's reviews and encouragement. But I still need feedback. Adios!

-CatJetRat


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